hey saw the crew of the stranded vessel
huddled together on the sloping deck.

"Don't go in any closer, Tom," cautioned the girl. "The tide's turning.
They can wade ashore and watch her break up."

As they circled closer to make the turn, Gregory noticed a red-shirted
giant leap from the wreck of the fishing-boat into the shallow water,
waving his arms wildly about his head. But the noise of the _Petrel's_
motor drowned the voice of the infuriated fishing captain and his
threats and curses were heard only by his own crew.

"It isn't Rossi, after all," Dickie observed as she caught sight of the
red-shirted figure. "It's Boris, the crazy Russian. I never knew Mascola
to trust him with a boat like the _Roma_ before."

The _Petrel_ turned about and, burying her nose in the big swells, made
haste to leave the dangerous water.

"Head for the nets," the girl ordered. "I'm not through with Mascola
yet. He has my fish on the _Roma_. If I had a dory I'd go in there and
get them. But it isn't good enough to risk the _Petrel_."

As they came nearer the two strings of nets, Dickie explained: "I'm
going to work the same game on Mascola that the fish commissioner does
when he catches them trawling within the three-mile limit. I'm going to
salvage his nets and make him pay for his crooked work to get his
property. Lay to, Tom, and we'll pull them aboard with mine."

The fisherman drew alongside the row of bobbing corks with a grim smile
playing about his lips.

"Have to rustle," he observed. "You know how Mascola's boats follow up."

The girl tossed her head.

"I don't care if his whole fleet comes along. And him with them. I'm
going to make him pay me for those fish Boris stole from my nets. I
can't take it into court but----"

She paused in the middle of her sentence as her eyes swept the sea.
Focusing the binoculars on a small speck on the horizon, she announced:
"Here comes Mascola now in his speed-boat. We'll haul them aboard, boys.
Then I'll talk business with the dago. Get his nets first."

Falling to eagerly, Gregory received his first lesson in pulling the
nets. With straining back and smarting fingers he worked by the
fisherman's side hauling the heavy webbing to the deck. As they reached
the middle of the string the weight of the sagging nets increased and a
number of glistening barracuda floundered from the water, gilled by the
strong mesh. The girl observed the fish with darkening brow.

"The dirty robbers,"